When Thorin awoke he was staring into eyes he had long since forgotten. They were eyes filled with worry and concern.
"Sir, are you alright?"
Silence.
"Sherlock, call the bloody ambulance already!"
A light seemed to gather around the man's head making it seems as if he was wearing a halo. A memory hits him. One from a lifetime long ago. The same eyes were staring down at him with worry only they were accompanied by sorrow and tears.
"It's on the way, John. I still don't see why we're wasting our time with this man. Another citizen would have eventually stopped and helped him."
A memory of fire and dragons filled his mind.
"Because this man fainted in the middle of the street! I wasn't about to just leave him."
This time there was a memory of home and comfort. A memory of warmth. A word.
"Sir, can you tell me your name?"
Thorin found himself staring up into those eyes unable to form any words.
"He's in shock. Isn't it obvious? I don't see why given that he only passed out in the middle of the road. He isn't worth our time. The ambulance is coming, let's go."
"Sherlock you're not helping. Go call Lestrade and tell him we're going to be late."
"Late to a crime scene? John, have you lost your mind!"
"I'd do the same thing if you were the one passed out in the middle of the street unable to speak. Now go call Lestrade!" Sherlock, as Thorin had learned his name was, wasn't pleased with this response.
Thorin tried to speak again, only managing to open his mouth and re-close it.
"Sir don't try anything that may hurt yourself."
"Baggins." Thorin finally managed to gasp out.
Both John and Sherlock stared at Thorin.
"What did you say?" John asked as he started intently at Thorin.
"Baggins." He barely managed to say again before the blackness started to creep into the outer edge of his vision. He was vaguely aware of the two saying more, but he couldn't decipher them over the haze in his mind. Instead of trying Thorin decided to let the darkness completely take over.
"Did he just say "Baggins"? What does Baggins even mean?"
John ignored Sherlock and instead gazed down at the man below him. A memory of a time long ago came to him. A memory of a time of elves, dwarves, and hobbits.
"John, are you alright? You're looking light-headed."
The image of a dragon filled John's mind. Screams of a town as they were burned invaded his mind. Such a familiar voice whispered to him with hared and despair.
"The ambulance is almost here, John. The man will be fine, let's go. You're not well. Listen, can't you hear the sirens?"
Another memory, this time of John leaning over the same man promising safety as the light left his eyes. A memory of two boys who died too young. A memory of ten dwarves left without a king, without their friends.
"I can't leave him. I must be sure he is alright." John looked up at his friend and into Sherlock's eyes. All he saw was fire and death. "Don't waste the day with me, go to the crime scene without me. I'll meet you back at the flat later." A promise he wasn't sure he could keep.
"John..."
"Just go, Sherlock. I'll be fine. I was just to be sure this man is okay." I can't lose him again...
Sherlock wasn't certain about leaving his friend with a stanger. It was clear as day on his face. Sherlock Holmes wasn't certain.
"Go, Sherlock."
It seemed as though the dectective thought over the position they were in. John Watson could be stubborned if he wanted to be.
"Call me if you need help." If you need me. With those last parting words Sherlock turned and started away, his coat flying back behind him.
John turned his attention back to the man below him. Thorin. A voice in the back of his head whispered.
"Oakenshield." John breathed out softly.
He stayed there, kneeling over the man, over Thorin. He didn't even realize the paramedics had arrived until they were pulling him back and taking his place.
"What happened?" One asked as they felt Thorin's neck for a pulse.
"He fainted in the middle of the street. A friend and I moved him over here to make it safer." John answered automatically. The paramedic who had asked nodded and turned all his attention to Thorin.
John walked away from the group unable to stay. At least for right now. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep it together if he did stay. Though he knew Thorin would be alright he was having trouble looking at the other unmoving like that.
"Sir, are you alright? You're looking a little pale." John could almost laugh at the question. It was the same he had asked Thorin what now seemed like so long ago.
"Yes, I'm quite fine actually. Thank you, though." He turned to look at the man who had asked the question and was hit with another wave of memories. These of an older man, much taller than himself who spoke of adventures and fireworks. The name left his lips before he could stop himself, "Gandalf."
The older man smiled and laughed. "Not in a long time Master Baggins. I go by Erik now."
"Gandalf." He said again anyways. "Where... What's happened?"
"I do believed it's called reincarnation now. The moving on from one life to another."
"How do I remember? Is it even possible for me to remember?"
"It's very possible. You saw a memory, an echo from a past life. Something or someone so engraved in your time line they brought back the memories long since forgotten."
"Thorin..."
"Go to him, dear Bilbo. Say what you should have said long ago."
"Will he remember?"
"Of course. The memory goes two ways. Just ask Fili and Kili, the two of them can't stay apart in any lifetime."
"Um, excuse me, sir." Bilbo turned his attention from Gandalf to the young paramedic that had approached him. The kid couldn't have been older than twenty-two. "We're going to be taking him in to check for concusion and monitor him. We aren't sure of your relationship but we wanted to ask if you'd like to ride in with him."
Bilbo looked to where they were loading Thorin onto a stretcher. He considered going with them. But then again he could forget this ever happened and go back to being John Watson. He could just ignore the memories and feelings of Bilbo Baggins.
"Orin, we need to go!" The paramedic who had talked to Bilbo earlier called. They were loading Thorin into the ambulance to be taking to the hospital.
"Are you going to come, sir?" He looked at the man in front of him again and instead saw a young dwarf excited for adventure. An innocent dwarf who never expected to lose so much on a simple trip to reclaim a homeland.
He thought of the others. Those he left behind as Bilbo Baggins. He thought of Balin and Frodo, of Nori and Bofur. He thought of a single dwarf whose rare smiles would light up the room in even the darkest caves. Bilbo Baggins thought of the love he lost. He thought of the love he might finally be able to get back.
"Yes... I'll come."